I recently got my licence at the ripe age of 23. as a queer woman with horrid executive dysfunction, it was maybe the hardest test I’ve taken in my life ! I cried *every single time* I failed (usually in front of a bunch of 16 year olds) and on my 8th try, I cried bc I finally passed <3 in some ways, I’m glad it took forever bc I know my city’s public transit system like the back of my hand. I can be anywhere at anytime and have an internal compass of all the routes home. nothing truly radicalizes you about the state of public transit in north america like not being able to drive. cars shouldn’t be a requirement for life!
truly HUMBLING to do something as an adult that most 10th graders have already achieved without really thinking about it. Instead of being gracefully low key about it, I leaned into the indignity by making “novice driver” my whole personality for 10 months. I talked about it constantly, I loved bonding with other geriatric novice drivers ( the preferred term) and experiencing a rite of passage so out of step with my contemporaries.
i finally decided to quit smoking for good this year. however…the one thing holding me back was the wonderful, communal feeling of sharing a cig with strangers outside a bar.
luckily, you can always be the person with the lighter on hand when people need one.
you still experience that nice, warm bonding feeling without actually smoking. plus you’re being of service to others, which deepens the connection <3
